


Losing It All

by Bluepingpong



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hogwarts, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:42:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6900832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluepingpong/pseuds/Bluepingpong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the face of personal tragedy, Hermione reassesses her relationship with magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She dug her hands into her eyes and let out a sound that ripped through her. She slapped her forehead with her right hand and dug her feet firmer into the mouldy carpet like she was desperate to find a footing in this world that suddenly made no sense.

"Hermione,"--Harry reached out and put his hands on her feet. His whole body was shaking as he sat on his knees in front her, scared and numb. "Hermione," he called again and she let out a piercing scream. She screamed and screamed and Harry let his hands hug her feet, the only part of her body he dared to touch because he thought he knew fear, agony, and pain yet never in his life had he known a pain like the one his best friend was going through, not even in theory.

*

Hermione liked predictability. She liked the order of things and she revelled when things worked out just as they were expected. She knew her friends and family found this bit odd about her. After all, what self-respecting teenager did not like to dabble with the unpredictable? She thought this as she sat with her knees drawn up to her chest in an armchair looking out the window. Her eyes glazed over the scene outside; she did not _see_ anything really. Not even the crisp blue sky that indicated the dreaded winter was almost over or a stray bird that attempted to find a perfect spot on the tree just outside the window to sit. She only knew one thing, her mind singularly obsessed over one thought: How could she have missed it, them, any of them because of course there had to have been plenty of signs. She wondered, aimlessly, haphazardly about clues and hints that her mother must have dropped, indications she must have given and how she, her only child, was too callous to have not  noticed them. She did not notice. She did not pay attention to her mother. She was too busy saving the world. She shook her head, mindlessly, remembering the phrase popularized by newspapers and their fellow students at Hogwarts describing her as 'the wisest witch of her generation'. She felt bitter thinking how desperately, pathetically she failed to solve the puzzle that was her own mother.

"Ms. Granger." She was broken out of her reverie by the oddly calm voice of Minerva McGonagall.

"Afternoon, Professor."

"Would you like some tea before supper? I just made a fresh pot." She offered kindly.

Not really in the mood for any tea or supper, Hermione nodded her approval anyway. Tragedy was no excuse for bad manners.  

She followed her professor into the sitting area where they sat down on two very old armchairs. The upholstery had seen better days, the trimmings in gold and silver had frayed around the edges and gave off a musky, old smell.

"Biscuits?" offered the older woman as Hermione picked one in the shape of a cube up and nibbled. Her stomach churned as soon as her tongue made contact with food; she has practically been starving since morning.

"How was your day?" inquired the Headmistress.

"Fine", she replied.  And with that, they began the dance they had started since the news of her mother's death broke. The older witch stayed quiet for some time and then broke her silence but putting her cup down and sitting up a little straighter in her cushiony armchair. Here she goes again, thought Hermione. Here they go all again, she thought, angrily this time. _Time to get over, Hermione. Time to move on, Hermione. There's a war to be fought, Hermione._

"I need you back at school, Hermione," she began. Hermione shifted in her seat, instantly ready to argue.

"No, wait." The older woman put a finger up. "I need you back because I need your help." Hermione looked up from her cup and gaped a little at her professor's face. She needs _her_? The emotional, devastated wreck that she is? No one needs her help anymore. Not even Harry, Harry on his secret missions to find out more information about Voldemort did not need his friend anymore because she was too broken. And Ron. The loyal best friend of Harry did not know how to act around this sombre, agonized Hermione and stayed away, oscillating back and forth between the school and the Burrow, acting as a link to the real world and the still-safe corridors of the school. They were both fighting the fight she abandoned since the news of her mother's suicide crippled her to her very core. Tucked safely away in Minerva's house since her return from the funeral, Hermione spent her days analyzing and over analyzing her last encounters with her mother and each time, every time was plagued by guilt. For she knew not of her mother's unhappiness and really, what sort of a person did that make her? One who did not know of her mother's depression, her pain? She played the scene of her meeting with her father, who had telephoned the emergency number for Muggle children at the ministry who in turn had contacted the headmistress. Left alone to stew in her solitude, wrecked by her inner demons, Hermione played and replayed the look on her father's face when she stood at their doorstep: a kind of gaunt, stark terror etched violently over his kind face. She remembered thinking, ever curious, even at a moment like that, _why does he look terrified now? The worst has already happened_.

\--because the war is close." The headmistress continued on as Hermione clicked back into the conversation. "A lot of the former death eaters have children at Hogwarts and some of the parents, mothers mostly, refused to cooperate with you-know-who. Plenty of them have since defected and need direction and assistance into becoming a better ally for us. With your experience in running the DA, I thought you might be useful at that." Her stern professor finished in a gentle tone.

"Harry ran the DA." She countered, unable to stop herself the moment she found something to disagree on and that attitude, that insatiable appetite to be right all the time was so Hermione-like, so like the Hermione before tragedy struck that she startled herself. Judging by the ghost of a smile that flew across the thin lips of the wise professor, she could sense that her old professor saw it too but instead simply said, "It was your idea. You recruited the soldiers and if my information is anything to go by, the coin, the signing in and the scheduling were all done by you."

"I don't know if I---

"Come back to school tomorrow. Harry is around for a change and you can spend some time with him and your friends," she implored. "I do not pretend to know what you are feeling, Hermione. But I urge you to not to forget to live. And more importantly, I urge you to not let Voldemort rob every single one of _us_ the chance to live." Hermione stared hard at her favourite teacher wondering which was scarier, that McGonagall used the name or that she just used emotion to make a point.

*

She felt the wind being knocked out of her. It was so uncharacteristic of Harry and so characteristically her to hug someone so hard that their breath is knocked out of them that she almost smiled at their reversed role and choked out, "can.. not..breathe." A flustered and visibly emotional Harry Potter let go of her and mumbled an apology. His expression, worried and yet ridiculously happy to see her, made her feel a warmth inside her she had not felt in a while and this time, she hugged him one more time, swiftly and quickly as Harry hid his face in her shoulder.

"Ron will be back tomorrow. They are setting up the Burrow as an infirmary, for you know, when we will need one. Mrs. Weasley's in charge." He said all this with a half-smile in response to her unspoken query. They were standing in the middle of an unnaturally quiet Gryffindor common room; she imagined it must have been Harry's doing, that he wanted a moment alone with her. She stepped back and could smell the fire from last night still lingering in the air. She breathed in deep; this place had always had a calming effect on her. Even at a time like this, when she knew, they all knew, that dangerous, dark times were looming just outside the enchanted protections of the school, she still could not help but soak in the warmth of the room that is witness to some of the best memories of her life. She turned around to catch Harry studying her, and he shifted his eyes at his shoes. He was nervous, she realized. It irritated her.

"What happened there?" She pointed at a new scar on the outside of his left forearm.

"Bellatrix," he replied with a casualness that would have bothered her any other time but she was so surprised to hear of an actual battle between Voldemort's second- in- command and her best friend that her mind could not, did not register the flippancy at his voice. Instead, she looked on as the reality of the war, the war that was 'yet to be declared', with this man, this boy she met at eleven, in the lead, hit her.

"Where did you meet her?" She asked in a whisper, suddenly nervous as they dived headlong into the details of the events that took place while she was on the outside.

"Borgin and Burkes," Harry replied. "I was following a lead for one of the Horcruxes but she was ahead of me. She figured out somehow that I am looking through the early life of Riddle and she staked out in front of the shop, waiting for us."

"What happened?" She realized how silly that question sounded, _what happened? What do you think happened_ , she thought! _She tried to blow him to pieces and he survived, again, that's what happened_ , Hermione chastised herself.

"There were three aurors from the Ministry with me, but she is good you know, lethally good. She killed two of them. Andrew and I escaped. He's fine." He finished with a rush that indicated that he has recounted this story a number of times but it did not get any easier with time. Hermione tasted bile in her throat. Before she 'went away', before her 'mother', there _were_ battles here and there, but it was mostly between experienced aurors and death eaters. Harry's Horcrux hunt, too, had not been a one-man mission. They had help. Lupin and Kingsley accompanied him whenever he was out looking for clues and for leads but no one _died_! No one tried to hurt Harry, no one _did_. She felt oddly alone, like everyone went ahead without her. The war was on, and it started without her, with her sitting it out.

*

Hermione slept badly although at this point it was not much of a surprise. She woke up to come face to face with Parvati and Lavender and had to endure an awkward session of condolences offered and received. She tried to move past it by asking the question the headmistress cleverly avoided answering until now, the names of the ones who defected to their sides.

Lavender said, "Just four but gosh, what a bunch. Malfoy, Parkinson, Zabini and Nott." 

Hermione was shocked. She did not know what she expected or whom, but she was completely taken aback by the list.

"Malfoy?" she spat. "After Dumbledore? How dare he? How could McGonagall? He killed Dumbledore!" She felt her voice rise. She was angry and irrationally so, she could feel it.

"He did not really kill him, you know," Parvati reasoned. "He struggled with the decision, his family was going to be executed if he had not followed you- know- who's orders and really, it was Snape who's... at fault."

Hermione was not hearing any of it. "I don't trust him," she said.  

*

She walked into the Room of Requirement to tumultuous hexes and jinxes being thrown in every direction with Harry and Ginny duelling it out in the front. She watched, simultaneously amazed and scared, as it was hard to tell who was fighting whom. The room was bigger than she had ever seen and there were so many students, so many faces who ducked and retreated, attacked and hurled curses. Hermione stood transfixed, unable to avert her eyes from the scene and nervous because everyone was fighting for real. With a jolt she realized, this was no random practice session, rather a very carefully constructed simulation battle. Members of the DA each had a pin attached to their chests in either bright blue or bright orange indicating the two sides of the battle. Hermione's eyes flew to watch Seamus Finnigan hex Padma Patil into ducking behind a huge armoire, clearly put in the middle of the room for that precise purpose. Neville yelled out a curse at Seamus' gloating head and he too, was then forced to hind behind an actual tree this time. Very opportunistic of Neville, Hermione thought. With two members down, Hermione's unobstructed view found out the object at the center of the fight--a golden snitch perched on a rickety stool, making a buzzing sound. Two Ravenclaws she could not remember the names of and Luna Lovegood were standing guard around it. The blues and oranges were hexing each other not arbitrarily but were trying to reach the golden snitch, she understood.

She looked around and was amused to notice the intensity with which Ginny fought Harry. Hermione wondered vaguely if there was a story behind. She saw flashes of flaming red hair and tried to locate Ron but her eyes found Malfoy instead who was struggling to ditch a rather angry-looking Hufflepuff who it seemed, was trying a bit too hard to harm or at least injure him. And out of nowhere, as if by intuition alone, he turned to his left and saw her. He froze, mid battle, wand high, giving the angry girl the perfect opportunity to hex him. Hermione took a step forward as Malfoy fell backwards, crashing spectacularly into Ernie McMillan who screamed out, "Dobby! Dobby! Someone is hurt." And the battle stopped as if someone hit pause on a remote. It took a few minutes for the chaos to die down only to rise back up again when Ginny yelled out her name and ran towards her with at least twenty other members in tow who all enveloped her in a massive group hug. After several minutes of incoherent cheers and mumbles, and pure joy at seeing everyone after so long, the predictable awkward silence greeted her. The room grew eerily silent except for that one corner where Malfoy was now stirring feebly as Parkinson and Neville fussed over him.

She decided to be blunt about it and said, "My mother killed herself."

No one said a word.

"I don't know what made her do it and neither does my dad. All this time I thought Voldemort and his cronies will hurt my family and that I need to protect them. I did not know about her depression," she said. She did not know what made her say those words out loud to so many people. She did not even know all of them. But she needed a fresh start and she needed to help out in the war and she needed to be honest. She added, "I'm angry. I'm sad but mostly angry."

"Let's talk about what's really important here for a second, okay?" Piped Luna who was standing next to Ron. "Do you know how to cast a dislocator spell because I need to find a way to make my house invisible and no one here knows how to cast one." And just like that, the room relaxed and everyone started chatting at once. Hermione exhaled deeply, she did not know she was holding her breath. Ron moved through the crowd and without any preamble, without missing a beat, without any acknowledgement of the fact she has refused to see any of them for more than two months, he said, "I need you to kick Blaise Zabini's ass in Transfiguration and tell him wars are not won by turning a wand into a knife. Also, can you make the knife boomerang back to the spell-thrower's hand? He would _hate_ your guts, he thinks he's the king or something." He was grinning, a lopsided, goofy grin. Hermione flashed him a smile and the two of them threw their arms around each other, both at a loss for words, both happy to finally be able to attempt at normalcy again.

She spent a long time chatting and a longer time listening to the members of the DA strategize how to fight in an actual battle. She learned that Harry was gone for the better part of the last two weeks and in his absence, most of the leadership duties were split between Seamus and Ernie. The rest of the Army did not complain one bit but she could tell by the sheer force of energy in the room that something is different when Harry is in the room. A very blonde Ravenclaw girl mentioned a spell Lupin taught her that she found particularly useful as Hannah Abbot took notes of all the suggestions. Her eyes fell on the four Slytherins who while sitting in the middle, still appeared to be a bit removed from the rest. Harry answered a question about when they can participate in a mission and hesitated before answering. "Sooner than you think," he said.

The meeting ended shortly after and the room slowly thinned out. Seamus spoke to a group of four who were in charge of evacuation when and if Hogwarts comes under attack and ordered them to double the protections around the common rooms. Ernie came over to where Hermione was sitting with Harry and Ron and said, "Glad to have you back, Hermione. Harry told me you would be willing to take a stray with you for a mission so--"

"A stray?" She was confused.

"A defector," Ernie said without malice. "We have information that there's a house in Doctor's cove where death eaters have captured and kept two Muggle families hostage. We are sending a rescue team."

"The teams always have one or two experienced aurors," Ron provided. "DA members make up the foot soldier and some of the older DA folks are responsible for the strays." His eyes did not manage to hide the concern that his voice tried to mask when he said, "Zabini volunteered, a few others will go too and Tonks will be on the lead. We need someone to watch over Zabini. If you're not feeling up for it yet--"

"No I'll go," she said. "But why does he need handholding? I thought we trusted them."

"We do. But we learn from mistakes. Snape was trusted too." This time it was the unmistakable calm voice of Harry.

*

She left the DA meeting with a heart lighter than it had been in a while. She bade her farewell to her friends and walked towards the Astronomy tower. She turned a corner and saw Malfoy lean against the balcony between the corridor and the staircase, speaking to Parkinson in a hushed voice. She was crying. They broke off when they saw her and for a moment, they all simply stared at each other. She moved past them, ignoring their stares. She could still hear whispers amid retreating footsteps behind her and wondered what that was about.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione could not breathe. She panted, tossed her head sideways and clenched her fist only to unclench it again seconds later. She sat up bolt upright. It was barely an hour since she went to bed but sleep was not going to happen tonight, she realized glumly. Getting up, she put her cloak around her shoulders. She did not want to be alone.

Predictably, Harry was awake, sitting with a notebook in his hand and scribbling something down when she walked into the Room. Most unpredictably, so was Malfoy. They both looked up at her and Harry asked anxiously, "Hermione, what is it? What's wrong?"

Malfoy had four massive books open in front of him on the rug and looked at her for a second longer before looking down. Hermione said to no one in particular, "Can't sleep. Can I sit here?" Harry made room for her on the couch and she plopped down with a sigh. He patted her on her knee and asked in a voice of measured concern, "You want to take a nap? We're going to be a while."

"What are you two doing?"

"Braiding," announced the unmistakable drawl that is Draco Malfoy.

Harry snickered and ignoring her slightly raised eyebrow informed her, "Research. Digging up as much info as we can on Voldemort. Turns out we don't know a lot about him." He sounded odd. Bitter, thought Hermione.

"What are those?" She pointed at the books.

"Madam Malkin's finest robes. What do they look like, Granger? " More sarcasm from Malfoy.

"I am just trying to understand what the fuck has been going on, Malfoy. No need to be such a wanker about it."

She had their attention. Both guys stared at her openly now with Malfoy looking rather pleased and Harry looking like he might like to smile but knew better.

"Did you just call him a wanker, Hermione? _And_ said fuck?"

She gave him a look. He wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder in response and grinned down at her. He looked happy, for real. Hermione lifted the corners of her mouth just a bit and then looked at Malfoy again when she heard him snort rather derisively.

"Don't let the books swallow you whole, Malfoy. Must be what, years since you and a book were in close proximity?"

"I will have you know--" began Malfoy when Harry interrupted, "Those are books on Genealogy, Hermione. He's good at finding out stuff from ancient books."

She stayed quiet after that and watched the two of them get back to work. They did not say much to each other but she was a tad surprised to see the ease with which these two sworn-enemies shared information. War does that to people, she thought dully.

*

She woke up with a throbbing pain at her stiff neck. She looked around and saw the sleeping form of Harry Potter draped across a large sofa. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen. She could not tell how long she'd slept so she got up and walked to the table the guys had been working on. Papers, quills and books were littered all over. She picked up a parchment which had addresses and names written on it in neat, clear handwriting. Malfoy's, she realized.

*

She was still breathing hard after running all the way to the fifth floor of the rickety, old building. The Death Eaters were not expecting them so it was relatively easy taking them out. Tonks yelled out from somewhere in the third floor that they found the captive Muggles. Hermione stowed her wand away in the front pocket of her jeans as she saw Blaise Zabini emerge out from the attic.

"Clear," he said. He had a gnash across his right cheek. She craned her neck to look at it and asked if he needed her to help. He refused, not impolitely, but firmly nonetheless. She took the stairs down with him trailing behind her. The mission was over; she needed to be back at her dorm. Some other Slytherin can take care of his cut, she reasoned.

*

Malfoy, Ron and Parkinson were arguing when she walked into Harry's dorm room. She was not sure why she froze at the door at the sight of them. Ron stopped yelling immediately at the sight of her.

Parkinson was not done. "You want us to die. You don't trust us and that's why you and your precious Griffindors are not going there but making the bloody Slytherins die instead! But guess what, we are all dying, okay? Today or tomorrow. You will die too!"

She was vicious in her anger and Ron, bright red to the tips of his ears, kept his mouth shut. Malfoy put a hand on Parkinson's elbow and told Ron in a voice that had more steel in him than she had thought necessary, "Tell Potter I want this sorted out. We're not risking our lives for your experiments." He had a huge cut on the arm he put on Parkinson that didn't properly heal, Hermione noticed.

Hermione watched as the two of them left the room with Parkinson in tears again.

"What was that?" She had to ask.

Ron hesitated before answering, "Pansy and Malfoy almost got blown to bits this morning. We did not know there will be that many Death Eaters. If Kingsley had not joined them at the last moment-" he trailed off.

"Where was this?"

"At some crusty old abandoned house that belonged to Goyle's mum's family. Pansy didn't think it was a great idea."

"I never pegged her for much of a crier. That's the second time I saw her crying." She observed.

Ron did not meet her eyes when he said, "Pansy had a sister. She lost it a little since her death."

Hermione did not know what to say. Pansy has always been cruel, not just to her, the vile mudblood that she was to her, but to most people. It was sobering to hear that she had a sister and that she was cut up about losing her.

"Lucius Malfoy is dead."

"What?" She did not know why this surprised her. Forgiveness was not exactly one of Voldemort's strongest virtues.

Ron looked visibly upset when he added, "They never found Malfoy's Mum. Reckon Voldemort is holding her hostage or something."

Hermione decided to sit down and process everything she just heard. She did not dare ask what happened to Nott and Zabini's families that made them switch sides. Or was it the other way around, she wondered. Perhaps their families were punished because they had switched sides. She shook her head. She had enough terrors of her own.

*

She remembered the exact moment when she began to think of Draco Malfoy as anything but an arrogant prick. It was the twentieth day since she had been back from hiding. They were all sprawled across the Room in whatever surface they could find. Harry had just relieved them after a particularly difficult counter-jinx class and most of them were nursing small wounds and cuts. She was lying on her stomach when she lifted her eyes and saw Malfoy looking at her. He had this look on his face, the kind that dared you to look away. She did not. She held his gaze levelly and watched the lines around his mouth deepen, his nostrils flare. He knew. He knew she knew. She hesitated a moment before tilting her head on one side and gave him the tiniest of nod. Twice.  They held each other's gaze a bit longer than was necessary until he too, nodded at her. Infinitesimally. You could have missed it if you did not look hard enough.

*

She spent a whole day at the Burrow in the middle of the following month. Mrs. Weasley fussed over her impoverished frame; tried her best to pile her with food she prepared with special care, just for her. She ate as much as she could. . Mostly, she just watched the people whose sheer presence threatened to break the kitchen into two. It was Charlie's birthday or as Ginny liked to call it, "Mum's excuse to cook an obscene amount of food day". The twins had fooled Charlie into eating a candy that turned his entire head of hair a rather frightening shade of bubblegum pink. None of the other Weasleys had taken the candy, they all knew better, thankyouverymuch. Hermione laughed when Bill took out a camera that had seen better days to capture a photo of the very pink Charlie. Ginny, laughing hysterically, leaned her head on Harry's shoulder. Harry stiffened but then leaned his own head on hers for a moment.

*

She wondered idly if she should say something to break the silence. The room was stiflingly hot and she could feel perspiration trickling down her spine. Her hair was sticking to her neck and her head felt heavy. Malfoy looked like he put his head in a bucket of water, his platinum blonde hair matted all over his face. A still- wet cut on his forehead looked rather grimy and had a strand of hair stuck on it. They were locked in this safe house for almost an hour now, waiting for the signal from Remus and Ron. The four of them were trying to take out a Muggleborn couple who were definitely under the Imperius. The plan was rather simple: Disarm the Death Eaters standing guard patrolling their house, barge in, stun the pair and apparate them to Grimmauld Place to lift the Imperius.  

"How long do you think it has been?" Hermione asked.

After an abnormally long pause, she gave up the hope that he'd answer but then he said, "They should be any minute now. We should inform Tonks in five minutes if not."

She decided to get off from the window perch and started to pace around the small room. It had a dingy, muggy smell to it that was getting to her. She took out the rubber band from her hair and let it fall to her shoulder. She collected all of it back in her hands and tied them in a bun, more vigorously than was necessary and caught Malfoy looking at her just in time. He had the grace to look away when she said, "I am sorry about your father."

He looked like he would happily throttle her across the dingy room, walk out and never look back when Hermione, ever the brave one added, "I hope your mother survives this."

He looked shaken. "Why are you talking about this? What the hell is your problem?"

"My mother killed herself, you know?" She felt a kind of recklessness in her that she did not know she had and went on. "I blame myself for not even knowing how depressed she was. And I think about her all the time. All. The. Time. Just now, as we were looking out the window I was thinking about her. I can't get my mind off of what happened."

Malfoy had his wand-free arm in a fist. He opened his mouth when she cut him off by saying, "It's okay to think about her, you know? I would mourn my Dad's death even if he were an ass. And I would want people to know that I am freaking out about my mother being held captive by Voldemort."

"You don't know anything about my mother." He spat.

"I know--"

"No, you don't. It's not the same."

*

She knew something was off the moment Harry sat down on her bed with a resigned look. He lay down, took off his glasses and stared into space and ignored her worried looks until he turned to her and said, clearly and without a shred of hesitation, "Ginny thinks I am in love with you."

Hermione did not know what to say except look at the man in front of her, looking worried and nervous, waiting for her to say something.

"She's crazy", was all she managed after what felt like an eternity. Harry sat up, not leaving her gaze for an instant and said, "Is she really?" Hermione felt the air in the room thicken around her, like malted lava. Her lungs felt constricted, she did not know if she ever knew how to breathe.

"Harry," she said and then froze. He leaned into her, his eyes boring into her eyes, his vivid green eyes unobstructed by the round glasses that had come to define him, challenging her to take her eyes off him. She couldn't, could she? This is her best friend, the man she had loved for years, the brave man who was leading a war he did not choose to fight in the first place. And this man, who was selfless to a fault, was challenging her to take her eyes off of him; he was daring her to allow him to be selfish. At least for a little bit. She raised her hand and touched the side of his face, ever so gently and stopped breathing altogether when Harry closed his eyes at her touch. He did not move to return her touch, just let her caress his cheeks, his forehead, his hair and finally, his lips. He opened his eyes and Hermione knew, she knew at that moment that if she did not kiss him now, she would never kiss him again. So she did. She rested her lips on his and Harry Potter hung onto her like a man who had no fear in the world. His arms snaked around her waist and the back of her neck and he kissed her with such force, such unabashed desire that Hermione did not think, did not worry, did not let her sharp mind rebuke her for losing her senses. She simply let the kiss deepen. She felt Harry drag her onto his lap and marveled at the way his heart beat so fast and hard as he took his lips off of her long enough to take a breath and showered her face, her neck, her collarbone with maddeningly hungry kisses. Her hands went up to his hair, all ruffled and messy as she brought her lips back to him once more. Their tongues fought an internal battle of desperation of their own, as though on some instinctive level they knew this moment was too fragile to last. He tasted like coffee and recklessness and Hermione realized, with a start, that she should have kissed him a long time ago. Because for the first time, in a long, long time, she felt good. She was drowning and she never wanted to resurface to reality again.

*

Ginny's eyes were red and swollen the next few days. She pointedly ignored both Harry and Hermione as they prepared for a trip to Grimmauld Palace. The Order had called in an emergency meeting to discuss the next stage of the war. They still needed to find the remaining five Horcruxes and were nowhere near finishing off the one they did find. Malfoy was nursing Nott's left leg which got badly burnt in another of their rescue missions, this time in Muggle London. They were able to rescue four of the six Muggles who were abducted. All of them were parents of children who had magic. Death Eaters either used them to carry out missions for them using the Imperius or killed them when they felt like it. They were all being trained at Grimmauld place by members of the order. Finding a suitable job for the rescued Muggles proved to be a full-time job no one saw coming. Surprisingly, Luna and Pansy volunteered to steer the bewildered Muggles into the right direction. They taught them basic defense skills without magic and taught them tricks to identify potential threats before relocating them to safe houses across the country.

Ron walked over to Hermione and handed her a bag full of decoy detonators to carry. She took it from him wordlessly, unable to look him in the eye. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Harry watch them and stifled a sigh. It was going to be a hard two days, she realized.

 

*

She was having a cup of tea with Dean when Harry walked into the kitchen at the Palace. Malfoy, looking like he would rather spend a whole day with the Hippogriff from Hagrid's class than be stuck here, stood scowling at no one in particular while Zabini sat on one of the crooked stools. Harry had sought a private meeting with Remus and Kingsley to inform them about his decision to go to Godric's Hollow to find clues about Horcruxes. The decision was not welcome with either of them as anyone with a right mind could guess Harry would want to go back to his birthplace. As soon as Harry finished sharing the information with the four of them, Hermione volunteered to go with him. Malfoy cut off his almost smile with, "And how are we going to run this war when the "Chosen one and his favourite sidekick" go and get themselves killed, do tell us. Please."

"We're not going to get killed, Malfoy. Well, _I_ am not," he corrected. "Hermione should stay here."

"I am not letting you--" Hermione began.

"They will be waiting for you there! Do you not hear anything people tell you?" Malfoy sounded caustic.

"I have a feeling that there will be clue over there--"

" _A feeling_! Oh by all means, let us all die this fine afternoon because Harry Potter has a _feeling_!"

"Stop talking to him like that!" Hermione rounded on him.

"Stop defending him like his bloody mother--"

"Don't you dare call me that--"

"Why, touched a nerve, have I? Feeling a bit guilty mothering him now that you have snogged each other senseless?"

Hermione thought her ears will explode with the ringing. She clenched her fists and took a step forward when Dean came and stood between Harry and Malfoy. Zabini, smiling placidly, remained on his stool, as Hermione heard distant thuds of feet coming this way. She absolutely did not want this conversation to get out of this room. Casting a wandless Muffiliato, she shook her head and told to no one in particular, "No one talks about this."

When none of them moved and Malfoy made to say something, she looked him dead in the eye and said, "Shut the fuck up, Malfoy. Just shut it."  

She turned her gaze at Harry and said, "Walk with me, Harry."

 Pure fury was etched all over Harry's face and when he didn't make a move she raised her voice an octave and this time, growled, "Harry! Walk with me!"

She threw an embarrassed look at Dean and grabbed Harry by his elbow to drag him to the next room. She cast a Silencio and listened to Harry use his rather well- developed vocabulary of curse words on Malfoy and waited patiently. He rounded on her and said, "Who told him?"

"I don't know, Harry, Ginny's eyes? Your looks of guilt?" She seethed.

Harry looked crestfallen. She decided to take a few short breaths to calm herself.

"Let's not do this now, okay?" She finally said and continued with more force than she knew she felt. "We can figure this out later. When there is not Dark Lord. When my dad is safe and not on pain medication."

"Hermione--"

"We will figure this out, Harry. Later. "

"I don't want to be--"

"The chosen one?"

"No."

"Then what? What do you not want to be?"

He was at a loss for words. She felt like her chest might explode. She did not want this. She loved Harry, she would always love Harry but she knew she was not ready to face the mess that would inevitably follow if they chose to go ahead with this. She was not sure Harry was prepared for it either. And she was being honest with herself, she hated that look on his face. That look of pain and something else, guilt perhaps. Because _oh God_ , thought Hermione with a vehemence she knew he did not deserve, _let there be an emotion Harry Potter feels that is not tinged with a generous dose of guilt_. She did not want to deal with this guilty-looking Harry Potter who was feeling sorry for wanting to be selfish with her. She was not ready to let more guilt creep into her life; she had enough already.

"We'll figure this out later," she repeated. "When things are not so messy." She ended with a finality she wasn't sure she had a right to.

*

She did not see Malfoy for weeks. She wondered what made him lose it that day at the Palace. She reminded herself that he had always had a flaring temper and chastised herself for even wondering about his reasons. She thought she had lost it a little bit, thinking about Malfoy when Death Eaters tried to kill every single one of them in stray battles. She resumed speaking to Ginny. The redhead was hesitant at first but then slowly started warming up to her. Hermione wondered if she knew about the kiss. She knew Ron did not know but she was trying to keep her perspective straight and tried not to let all this madness cloud it.

*

Harry took off to Godric's Hollow without telling anyone. He was a natural at disguise; he simply sneaked off in the middle of the night donning his trusted invisibility cloak. The two nights he was gone, Hermione worried and paced, worried and paced. She remembered Harry's face from the night Dumbledore died. He was deathly pale, mad with grief and inexplicably, irate. She now understood exactly what could drive a person to experience that curious mixture of emotions. He came back two nights later with good news. The sword was hidden somewhere at the village. The Order was too happy he was alive to really yell at him. So naturally, Ron took care of it. Harry apologized for making everyone worry but Hermione caught him smiling a little loopy and realized that he needed this. He needed to rebel in this rebellion. He needed to go rouge for just two days. She hugged him. Really, what sort of a friend would she be if she did not?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be a bit too much Harry/Hermione for some reader's liking. But I always was drawn to their relationship and had to experiment a little.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a rumor that Lavender Brown and Ron Weasley had been going at it at one of the safe houses and Lupin tried to talk some sense into them. You know, war and all. Hermione smiled as Ginny made a revolting sound hearing Neville's rather animated report of the scene.

But it was Pansy's blithe, "Out of all of us. Freckly Frecklerson gets some," that had Hermione roaring with laughter, soon joined in by Neville and Ginny. Pansy continued to look like her cat died because Ron got some before she ever did. Her look of genuine disgust made them laugh harder. Malfoy walked into the room to catch Pansy breaking into a reluctant smile too and he raised an eyebrow at her.

No one noticed him.

*

She was sat at one of the stools in the Greenhouse when she heard him walk in. He was muttering something under his breath when he noticed her, cursed and turned to leave when she called his name.

"The place is big enough for both of us", she said. He looked at her, sharp, as he always did. Hermione wondered if she ever caught him look sneakily at her or anything else for that matter. _Not since he defected_ , she realized. _Not since she came back_.

"You want to share a greenhouse with me, Granger?" His bored drawl interested her, so did his use of her last name. He had not spoken to her directly since that fight with Harry at the Palace and she knew he knew that.

"Just a greenhouse, Malfoy", she replied. He pointed at the book she was poring over and asked about the title.

She hesitated just a teeny bit before answering, " _Pride and Prejudice_ ".

He smirked his trademark smirk before saying, "Looking for a Darcy to rescue you from the Bennets or in this case, the numerous Weasleys, Granger?"

Hermione liked to think she could count the number of times she had been stunned to silence in her life and she never would have imagined Draco Malfoy had the capability to do that to her. She managed to splutter, "You read _Austen!_ "

She shook her head when she saw Malfoy's smirk turn into a good old grin. Again, something she rarely believed would happen in her presence and said, "You read Muggle literature?"

"Books are books." He countered.

Hermione wondered later what made her want to reach out and have a conversation with Malfoy and why she was so stunned that he knew about _Pride and Prejudice_. Maybe he only read the SparkNotes version. Or saw the film. The Keira Knightley one, not the BBC version, she reasoned and then giggled in the most Un-Hermionish way possible. She knew one thing: The chances of Draco Malfoy watching Keira Knightley on film is significantly lower than him reading the mother of all chick-lits, even if it meant he threw the book over a couple of times when it got too sweet for his taste. She thought she had gone mental for thinking so much over this tiny detail. She thought she had gone mental anyway.

*

Hermione woke up screaming. It was barely two in the morning and she did not have any sleep at all. Again. She hid her head in her pillow and let out a long sigh. The dreams were still as awful as the day she found out about her mother. She knew she needed to talk to someone about it but there never seemed to be a good enough time to bring it up. Her DA members were battle-weary. It had been two months since Harry found out about the sword of Griffindor, two months of rekey trips to Godric's Hollow in vain, numerous one- shot battles with Death Eaters at various locations and several severe injuries. Harry was getting increasingly sombre with every passing day. Some days Hermione wondered if this was the same boy who was exceedingly touchy during their fifth year. It almost felt like Harry has had an epiphany of sorts in recent times. He was calm and he rarely flew off the handle. Perhaps he left it to the Weasleys. Ron has been slightly better behaved than a particularly nagging Blast Ended Skrewt in recent times. Hermione did not seek out one on ones with him since the last one had them yelling out awful things at each other that neither of them liked to remember later. He had tried to stop her from going on a rescue mission because he heard her crying the night before. She thought he was trying to say she did not know what she signed up for. It was one of their ugliest rows. Ginny too, has been sensitive lately. The twins were gone for close to ten days now, out on a mission in areas that none of them knew much about, not even Harry. Hermione could sense that the tension between the former lovers had a lot more to do with than just her. She really did not feel like speaking to McGonagall or any of the older Order members. She did not want to be fussed about.

She walked over to the kitchen area of the Palace and poured herself a glass of water. It was then she noticed that Malfoy was lying on his back on one of the couches. His eyes were closed with one hand draped over it but somehow, she knew he was not asleep. She hesitated for a moment before she sat down on a chair opposite him. She thought she felt him tense up for a fraction of a second, but she could not be sure. Her eyes fell on his other hand that lay on his stomach. She knew he had the Mark on that one.

"Checking me out, Granger?"

He had startled her.

"Could not sleep," she managed.

He took his hands off his eyes and took her in. She shifted a little uncomfortably in her chair. She had a pair of voluminous cotton pyjamas on and her T-shirt had seen better days. Her hair, always messy, always wild, was even wilder and messier than usual thanks to the tossing and turning she did before the nightmare woke her up. He did not seem to mind. She idly wondered why she cared.

"Do you have trouble sleeping as well?" She asked.

He remained quiet, as is his style, as she has began to comprehend lately. Just when she thought he will not say anything and she was about to say something else, he spoke. "How often do you have those dreams?"

"How do you know.."

"You don't use Muffliato all the time."

It was her turn to stay quiet. She did not know how to have this particular conversation. Specially with _Malfoy_ , she thought.

"I dream of her. A lot. I'm very young in the dreams. She is always there, protecting me. It ends the same way every time. She throws herself from the roof while I stand in the back and watch."

"How did she do it?"

She did not know what to make of the question. _What was 'it'_ , anyway? _How did she kill herself? How did she die? How did she do something that painful? How did she do something that made her husband take painkillers every day? How did she do this to_ her _?_

"Does it matter?" She found herself asking.

"Did she jump off a building?" Draco asked as though he was asking an academic question.

"She took a lot of sleeping pills."

Noticing his look of confusion she explained, "A very common Muggle way of doing...killing..."

"You know you can take potions for it."

Hermione stared at him. Before she could ask what on earth he meant by that she realized he was now talking about her, not her mother. His head was raised a little from his lying position and he was looking at her in a strange way. Like he was discreetly challenging her to say something. Hermione was not the best student in her year for nothing. She knew that look. Malfoy had used it on her many times during their school years; it was that look of 'dare'. He was trying to goad her into saying things she would later regret. So she simply said, "I don't want to."

Malfoy pushed his tongue around inside his mouth and said, not particularly unkindly, "No, I suppose not. Who would carry the bleeding heart flag around here?"

She was being good; she did not cave. Her face twitched. She really wanted to say something God-awfully vile. But she was being good, she reminded herself.

Her silence seemed to have stirred something in him as he sat up and walked over to the kitchen. He came back moments later carrying a bottle of Vodka and two glasses used for drinking water. He set them down on the table in front of them, poured two shots worth into the glasses and looked at her expectantly.

Hermione laughed. It sort of exploded out of her, taking her by surprise.

Utterly serious, Malfoy said, "Laugh all you want but nothing beats a Vodka induced stupor, Granger. Dreamless oblivion. Come on; knock it back a few times. Where is your Griffindor courage?"

She stopped laughing immediately. Malfoy was now holding a glass where he had poured a little bit of the drink and waited for her to take it. She raised one of her eyebrows, took the glass and drank it in one swallow. He lips twitched as she grimaced as the liquid travelled down her throat and finished his own glass.

"Do make Potter drink himself silly one of these nights, will you? That stick up his arse might actually fall off."

 "Got a special place in your heart for Harry's arse, Malfoy?"

He made a face that said, _don't, too much_.

She smiled and threw back another glass down her throat. She loved the fire inside her mouth and her chest as she watched Malfoy drink, with fascination. 

"So this is how you manage, huh? Alcohol and lame comebacks?" She had to ask.

He actually smiled at that. Just a little bit.

She did not know what made her do it, why she said it but she did anyway. "I'm glad you're on our side, Malfoy."

*

She had tried her best to ignore it for a while but it was evident that war was not going to end as quickly as they had all initially assumed. Increasingly, they all began to accept that it had a lot more to do with stuff other than the Horcruxes. Perhaps the most sobering realization of all was learning to fear beyond Voldemort. His merry band of Death Eaters fought a nasty, violent and unfair battle. As Seamus Finnigan put it once, "The minions are deathly at it."

McGonnagall and the other teachers termed it the "three prongs technique". They were fighting to find and destroy the Horcruxes; rescuing Muggleborns and Muggle-sympathizers; and fighting with bands of Death Eaters whenever and wherever. It was hard--fighting in this way. But they were getting better at it. Luna and Pansy, for example, proved to be sort of geniuses at head-to-head battles. No one was particularly surprised by Pansy's violent streak; people expected her to be vicious. But Luna was a revelation all together--she was crafty, strategic. She sort of went into a zone, a trance when she was on the battlefield. No jinxes, curses or hexes were off limits and her agility surprised almost everyone. Fred even commented how Ravenclaw was dumb to not have her play Quidditch. High praise from the redhead, Hermione thought.

*

She walked around the corridor on the fifth floor when she bumped straight into Harry. He looked distracted but smiled when he saw her anyway. They had not talked about the kiss or the fight about the kiss at all since then. They did not spend a lot of time alone either which was, if she was being honest, not wholly a bad idea. Because Harry looked like a lot of things at that particular moment--shy, interested, uncomfortable. Hermione did not have to think about what to say when Ron rounded on them and announced, "Mum's here. She brought food for everyone."

*

"Don't tell me what not do to--"

"You need to follow instructions properly..."

"I follow instructions all right, thank you.."

"You could have been killed!"

"Fat lot of worse that would've done!"

Ron froze. Hermione was so angry, she did not know if she had ever been this angry in her whole life. She could have physically shoved Ron. She did not need everyone to tell her what she was doing was wrong. She knew she made a bad call when she stepped out from her shelter and aimed hexes at the woman in front of her when she was supposed to retreat.

"Why would you say that?" Ron's face was ashen, as if he could not believe she was saying this.

"Because dying is not the worst thing that can happen, Ron."

"Have you COMPLETELY lost your mind?" He was shouting now.

"In case you haven't noticed, the war is going to go on for a long bloody while. People are going to die. Our people. And I don't want to be safe when others die."

Ron swore and took a step towards her. "You are not going to any other battles until..."

"Until what?" She took a step forward.

"Until I _say_ so!"

"You don't get to...who the hell do you think you are?" She was beyond indignant. She could actually slap him, she realized.

"Weasley!" Malfoy brought them up short as they turned to see him, looking rather cross at the sight of the both of them red in their faces, fists high.

 "Your girlfriend is not here yet. Shouldn't you be checking on her? Or is Granger always more important?"

Hermione wanted to break something. She hated all of this nonsense. She hated Ron for trying to coddle her. She was sick of explaining to everyone that dying meant something completely different to her now. But she absolutely, completely hated Malfoy for coming in between her and Ron.

Malfoy's eyes followed Ron as he left the sitting area of the Palace before landing on her.

"You Griffindors sure like beating around the bush, Granger."

"What?" She spat.

"Listen. Stop acting like you have a special relationship with loss. Weasley and Potter are too damn cowardly to tell you this to your face but plenty of people have lost shit since all this started. You do get that, don't you?"

He raised one finger when she tried to say something and rushed on. "No, listen! Like you so overzealously pointed out, all of us will lose _more_. We _get_ it, Granger. Stop fucking wielding it over everyone's head like you have some monopoly over suffering."

That ferret! The cheek of him! She wanted to hurl insults at him, hurt him where it hurt the most but he simply walked out of the room, leaving an air of guilt thick in the air.

She decided to jump in the shower. Maybe she did need to cool off.

*

Harry James Potter had his serious face on. Hermione sighed. This must be about the fight with Ron and how she claimed she wanted to die.

 

*

 

"Why must you force Potter to date Weaselette? He clearly doesn't want to."

"Excuse me?"

"He is clearly hankering for you. Although God knows why."

"You are sicker than I remember, Malfoy."

"No need to act all prissy. You know he wants to."

"What Harry wants is none of your business."

"And what about you? What do you want?"

"That is also none of your business."

He smiled and mimicked, "This is how you cope, Granger? Denial?"

 

*

She saw him speaking to Parkinson one late afternoon in the Room. A few of them were sitting around half listening to Luna prattle on about some plant or the other. Neville looked vaguely interested. She saw Malfoy touch Pansy on her shoulder as she leaned into him. He let her rest her head on his shoulder. Hermione watched with fascination how Malfoy's face went from calm to worried in a flash. His eyes found her and she thought about looking away. Pansy, sensing something, looked up to his face and watched him watching her. She stood up and walked out of the room.

*

Hermione leaned down to rest her hands on her knee and breathed heavily. She was exhausted. They had to run for a good twenty minutes before they barely managed to touch the Portkey. Nott and Parvati lagged behind them and she hoped they had the head to run the other way to find the safety Portkey. It was supposed to be an easy one--they did not expect over twenty Death Eaters hiding in that small tent. However, judging by the way four of them kept shielding one woman who had a giant, ugly locket on her neck, she knew why. They had the locket of Salazar Slytherin. She and Malfoy were both panting heavily; a drop of water would have done them both nice.

"This is the wackiest location I have ever been to." Malfoy droned.

Hermione agreed wordlessly. They were at a small field, somewhere not too far from them, was a Muggle city center. She could hear distant sounds of car honking and the unmistakable sound of traffic. _Regular human beings, without a war on their heads, going on about their regular lives_ , she thought glumly. She was not sure why the Portkey brought them so close to Muggle London but they had to wait for her coin to activate before they could Apparate back to Hogsmeade.

"Got any water?"

She shook her head in the negative and just decided to dive headlong. "What were you and Pansy arguing about?"

He gave her a look that clearly meant: You are mental for talking about this right now.

She did not care. She did not know how long before they will be back so she decided to simply talk about stuff.

"Was it about her sister?"

He didn't say anything. _Obviously_ , she thought.

"I don't talk feelings." He said firmly.

She did not counter him. It did seem unlikely that Malfoy would want to talk about "feelings". He probably did not have any, she reasoned. She sat down on the damp grass, stretched her legs out and rested her weight on her palms. Malfoy sat down a moment or so later, a little further from her, his hands folded on his laps, legs tucked under him. He looked spectacularly out of place even with his windblown hair, sheen of sweat on his forehead, and dishevelled robes. Hermione could not help but wonder if Malfoy's pureblood butt had ever come into contact with grass before. A soft chuckle escaped from her, which made him look at her quizzically.

She wanted to be bold. "How do you like resting your bum on grass?"

"Got a soft spot for my bum now, Granger?"

She felt a slight red creep into her face because she was, in fact, thinking about his bum but decided to play on the defensive and said instead, "Do you remember everything I tell you?"

"Only the dumb ones."

"Must be a lot of things to remember then. You always think I'm saying dumb things."

Malfoy went quiet for a while. She was caught off guard, again, silly her, she should by now know that he likes taking awfully long pauses.

"Not always."

'Not always'? What did that mean, she wondered. He did not always remember what she said? Or She did not always say dumb things?

She decided to let that comment and that moment be. Who knew what made Malfoy do what Malfoy did.

"Pansy is the jealous type." He volunteered.

Her coin felt hot against her skin in her jacket pocket and that moment was gone. Just like that.

 

*

She had a dream about Malfoy that night. She did not remember much of it the next morning except that she woke up feeling turned on by it. Embarrassed, she could not look Harry or Malfoy in the eye as they all sat down for a rare Great Hall breakfast. Since the death of Dumbledore, it was rare for all the members of the DA to be present at breakfast at the same time. George was mimicking an expression of Ginny's when she herself was at the receiving end of one of her own bat-bogey hexes and it was drawing a lot of attention from everyone. He and Fred came back the night before with loads of fantastic stories to tell about their mission. Pansy was openly smiling, so were Blaise and Theo. Blaise really did look good when he stopped scowling for five seconds, Hermione thought absent-mindedly. Malfoy looked like he was above all this childish behaviour, as per usual. But Hermione could have sworn she caught him hide a snicker behind his goblet of orange juice.

She thought of running her hand against his bowed down head and blushed, ever so slightly at the thought

"Something on your mind, Hermione?" Asked Harry, looking puzzled at her shy expression.

"Um, no, just enjoying being here with everyone." She looked at Harry with fondness before adding, "I hope you will take some time off enjoying the sun outside today, Harry. It's a gorgeous day out."

He smiled and reminiscent of their old camaraderie, put his arm around her shoulder and drew her close. She leaned into him, smiling even as she felt a prickle of tear threatening to spill over from the corner of her eyes. She missed him, missed this. She loved Harry. She did not think she could ever stop loving Harry. She did not want to lie to herself that she sometimes, at some point or the other during her long friendship with him, did not desire him, but she was almost certain that she did not want to risk the effortlessness of their relationship by bringing their genitals in contact. Hermione laughed at the curious ways her thoughts were travelling on that particular morning. In response to Harry's quizzical face, she simply rested her head on his shoulder and said, "It's a sunny day."

*

Malfoy ignored her for the rest of the week. Or at least, she thought he ignored her more than usual the rest of the week. She had another dream about him two nights back. She remembered most of it this time and kept to turning red whenever her mind absentmindedly over the details of the dream for the next two days. She caught Luna looking at her during a practice class taught by an Auror from the ministry and could swear the loopy girl was able to read her mind. It would have been horrific, had it been the case. She was letting Malfoy do something very vile to her at that moment in her head. This time, she reasoned, she knew why she had a dream about the wretched Slytherin. She and he were huddled together in the Room participating in a simulation battle like the one she first saw after she came out of the hiding. She could feel heat radiating from his white shirt as his side was pressed to her left. He smelled of faint cologne and sweat and Hermione could not, honest to God, justify why she tried to sniff harder to memorize the exact smell of his cologne.

She realized that she had become aware of Malfoy. She did not like it but her dreams had made her overtly sensitive to his presence. This is why when they never exchange a word the whole week it bothered her. It bothered her even more because it bothered her.

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever fic. Please read and review.


End file.
